


Pińa Coladas

by cherrywood



Category: Cow Chop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Drug Use, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Post-Break Up, Romantic Comedy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, minor brett/aleks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-26 16:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15004676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrywood/pseuds/cherrywood
Summary: A man walks into a bar.(Except a man is your ex, the bar is some fancy gala and the punchline is that you've never believed in any higher power but if you did you think you would want to sucker punch them for this)





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was started wayyyyyy back last summer when sp7 had that band plotline for a while that aleks was apart of so if everyone seems a bit younger that's why sorry  
> good news is 80% of it is written and edited already so updates will hopefully be fairly regular

_It’s neither of their faults and that’s really the worst part._

_Aleks wants to yell and spit poison filled curses, wants somewhere to shove the blame even if it's on himself. There’s something gratifying in ending things that way, with a bang, with finality. The kind of ending that makes you so angry that you can’t even think about being sad until you're three weeks into your post-breakup bender and remember the good times at some shit-hole bar or on some nobody's squeaky mattress._

_This is slow and steady and predictable in a way that makes him think that it was inevitable, and that's the most depressing prospect of all._

_All that precious time and energy and love used up on something doomed to fail from the get-go._

_Aleks figures that most relationships can be broken up into two parts; the highs and the lows._

_Nothing about their relationship had ever really been low. There were some stupid tiffs, small ones about who would do the dishes or take the dogs out, the most serious fight that he can think of was about whose family they should spend last Thanksgiving with._

_They never shattered plates on the floor or came home late smelling like booze and someone else’s perfume._

_They had fought enough as just friends, so when they came together as more it felt like they had run out of arguments to have. They didn't even fight when they broke up, it was all very diplomatic._

_What had started with ‘we need to take a break’ turned into ‘we need to see new people’ and neither of these statements were untrue even though Aleks wished they were._

_They had been ‘James _and_ Aleks’ instead of just James and Aleks for too long and it was stifling both of them. They were two very different people. Two very distinct personalities fitting together like puzzle pieces. _

_It was all perfectly fine, and that was the biggest problem, the true nail in the coffin._

_Because James had never been mad at Aleks for staying out too long partying, and Aleks had always dressed up in his nicer button-up shirts (only somewhat reluctantly) and tagged along on James’ excursions to the casino or horse track._

_They had honestly tried their best to keep each other happy, to respect their boundaries, and it still didn’t work out._

_It wasn’t either of their faults, Aleks tells himself as he watches James pack up the living room, brushing the dust off of the books and DVD’s that hadn’t been touched in years, putting his stuff in a cardboard apple box to take away._

_They were both doing what was right for each other and themselves. It was better this way._

_But when James kissed him goodbye one last time, with a small smile and teary eyes it makes Aleks choke up and grab his hand, against all his better judgment. He wants to see if James will squeeze it back._

_When James gently, gentler than Aleks can ever remember him being before, pried his hand off and smiled again, Aleks let him go, holding onto the fact that at least there had been _something_._

_The door closes behind him with a click that feels more like a boom and Aleks is alone for the first time in his adult life._

_It takes him four hours to stop crying and another three to finally get off the couch to take Mishka for her evening walk._

_The bed is too big that night, but at least he stops crying like a bitch at around three in the morning._

_He isn't allowed to cry anymore, this was for the best, as long as he remembered that he would be fine._

 

.

 

There's a niggling feeling in the back of Aleks’ brain that tells him he doesn't belong here, and even though it is probably right, he still makes a conscious effort to ignore it. Beside him, Steve is gawking at the other partygoers who have been gawking right back at them since they had stepped out of James’ car; Cib yelling loudly about an Avengers porn remake he had watched the night before, James encouraging him with nods of approval.

Under their heavy gazes, Aleks is incredibly aware of the fact that his suit doesn’t fit him right in the shoulders. 

They were only here because the gig was paying more than they had made in their past five shows (they had done two for free), and Aleks knew that there was no way he would ever interact with anyone in this room that wasn't in the band ever again, but he still felt clammy and nervous. He hoped he wasn't sweating as much as he thought he was. 

Steve walked up to the bouncer with purposeful steps after he finally got over the extravagant cars and watches everyone around them was sporting, “Your entertainment for the night is here,” he said dramatically, ignoring James' snickering. 

“Do you have an invitation?” 

Aleks pushes past him and hands it over the crisp cream paper embellished with swirly gold letters that had been entrusted to him earlier in the week for this exact reason. It’s ostentatious enough that even Steve had scoffed at it when it had arrived in the mail, it was heavy enough to have cost at least a couple of bucks to mail. 

The guy looks it over with some suspicion, “I’ve got the band that’s supposed to be playing at the front entrance,” he finally says into his radio. 

Aleks shifts his grip on his base case and tries to discreetly pull his tie out so that it’s a little looser. It's already creeping up on seven and they were supposed to have been there at six-fifteen for set-up and sound-checks. 

The bouncer finally rolls his eyes at them after listening to his radio for a few minutes, “Go around back, someone will be waiting for you to help get everything settled.” 

Steve gets a little pissy that they have to go through the back door which gets Cib riled up, but they finally make it into the venue. It's exactly what Aleks excepted but it still leaves him in opened-mouth awe for a solid thirty seconds before he remembers to control himself. 

There's literally fountains of chocolate. Three of them. 

There's also lots of eyes on them, mixed looks of indignation and curiosity. 

The rest of the room is as ostentatious as the chocolate fountains might suggest it be. There are too much gold and white in the decorating and waiters in actual full tuxedos flit around with platters of strange looking mini-appetizers and delicate glasses of champagne in their hands. 

“We are so fucking out of our element,” James whispers, Aleks isn’t sure if he’s talking to himself or not, but he still offers a nod. Previously the richest place they had played at was one of Brett's college friend’s house party in the hills with an infinity pool and a view of the city, this venue made it seem cheap. 

“Everyone here is boring,” Cib complains after assessing the room. 

“You haven’t talked to anyone yet,” Parker tries to say but is interrupted by a stressed-out looking women in a long red evening gown. 

“You guys are the band?” She marvels at them with a mix of horror and amusement that Aleks would normally take offense towards but he honestly can't blame her in this case. 

“Well we do have the only instruments in the room,” Cib laughs as if he’s told a joke, not even Parker laughs with him. 

“Oh god, what is he thinking?” The women mutters disdainfully under her breath, loud enough for all of them to hear it. “Well follow me, we have to get you guys set up within twenty minutes,” she raises an eyebrow at their cases. “Please tell me that’s not an electric guitar.” 

“It’s a base,” Aleks mumbles back. 

Why would she have chosen them to play here in the first place? 

It was technically Trevor who had gotten them this gig, he had said his friend had needed a band last minute after the other one had canceled on them. Aleks wondered if he had forgotten to mention to the planning committee that they were a rock group, not an orchestra. 

The woman turns up her nose, mouth flattening into a thin line as she turns without another word and walks off. 

They stare at each other for a bit, wondering if they’re supposed to follow. 

Finally, James takes the first step forward with a shrug. Cib jogs to get in front of him so that he’s leading the pack and Steve speedwalks tog et close enough to stage whisper at him angrily for causing a scene. Parker and Aleks reluctantly take the rear. 

They’re led into a fairly large waiting room with a plate of appetizers splayed out beside a bottle of expensive looking champagne resting in a bucket of ice. Cib already has three fingers in what looks like hummus before the rest of them have time to set down their stuff. 

The woman makes a point to ignore them until James wanders over to the champagne, which makes her clear her throat, “We will set up speakers for your,” she frowns as she considers them, “Instruments.” 

Aleks frowns as a man in a tuxedo carries his base out of the room. It makes him nervous, no one had ever set it up but him before. 

“Wow is this a table made of wood?” James whistles mockingly and raps his knuckles on it. “I didn’t think you could get one that wasn’t plastic.” 

“You are only here because I allow you to be,” Steve states blandly, grabbing a bottle of Fiji water from the display and gargling it before spitting onto the ground. The woman lets out a surprised noise of disgust and turns away. 

James rolls his eyes but does stop making fun of them for the moment, turning back to whatever he's been doing on his phone while the rest of them idle around. Normally Aleks would make sure his bass was all set up and tuned properly, but since he can’t do that he’s stuck watching Parker and Cib try and do handstands. 

When the lady finally leads them all to the stage she offers them one last disappointed sigh before telling them to go on and greet the audience. 

The show doesn’t go fantastic (Cib sets a new record by managing to lose three drumsticks while playing) but it’s better than expected. They’ve really only ever played at dive bars, house parties and local festivals before so the atmosphere is a bit odd but the crowd actually gets somewhat into it. He’s glad they decided not to play any of the more risqué songs.

In the afterglow of the fairly positive response to their set, they make the decision to stay a bit and eat some fancy food. 

The food is as good as Aleks thought it would be. Meats cooked perfectly, vegetable served fresh and an open bar. He almost wishes he had brought Tupperware, he would be fed for weeks with all the stuff they’re serving, but Steve would have killed him if he tried.

“The cups are pretty,” Aleks tells the waitress that offers him champagne, ignoring the snort James lets out from behind him. He’s not sure what else to say. Do you thank them? Everyone else just seemed to ignore them but that felt rude. 

“They’re flutes,” Steve mutters under his breath as she walks away without a word. “Also stop acting like a loser, you’re supposed to be the cool one.” 

“I can be the cool one,” Parker says enthusiastically. 

James scoffs again but Parker doesn’t seem to hear him.

“Guys, you won’t believe what I just found,” Cib announces his presence by holdinkg up a flower he had definitely stolen from one of the arrangements on the tables. “Poppy. We can get back into opium.” 

Aleks isn’t the most botanical, but he’s lived in California long enough to know that poppies aren’t pink and bushy like that. And even though they have never once sold opium before, he’s still pretty sure the marketable part is made out of the seed, not a singular plucked flower.

“Where did you get that,” Steve hisses, trying to and failing to grab it out of Cib’s hand. “Go put it back before someone sees.” 

“Methamphetamines are dangerous,” Parker looks at the flower like it might bite him if he gets to close. 

James snorts, “It's not a methamphetamine you dipshit.” 

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” Steve stands up suddenly, puts his napkin on his plate and brusquely walks away from the table. 

“Wait,” Cib chases after him, waving the flower wildly and attracting quite a few looks. “Steve, I need help distilling it.” 

Parker looks between Aleks and James for a second before he too pops out of his chair, “I’ll go make sure they don’t get addicted.” 

“Godspeed,” Aleks waves as he dashes off, turning to look at James. “That wasn’t even a poppy, right?” 

James shakes his head, “Definitely not.” 

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Aleks takes another bite from his slider he had been eating, pulled pork dripping from the back onto his napkin despite his effort to keep clean. 

“Aleks?” 

Someone taps him on the shoulder after he wipes the corners of his mouth. He turns around expecting something normal like Parker to have come back to ask him about the dangers of drug abuse or Cib to tell him that his opium scheme wouldn't work unless he participated in some wacky inane way, instead, he gets an emotional sucker punch to the gut. 

“James?” It comes out as a squeak and a gasp mixed together, so fucking uncool. 

Aleks can actually feel the cognizant thought leave him at the sight of James. All he's left with is a heart-pounding nothingness as his mind goes blank. 

“What?” The other James responds, looking up from his phone expectantly, unaware of the predicament Aleks has found himself in. 

Aleks can’t think of anything else to say, so he’s stuck just standing there like an idiot. He manages to have enough forethought to at least keep his mouth closed so he doesn’t squeak in shock again. 

Non-ex James squints at the scene, and then his eyes go wide, “Oh shit, you’re the ex,” he says simply, and it’s enough for Aleks’ brain to kick back into action. 

“I’m thirsty,” he yells loud enough for Steve to turn to look at him from across the room, an irritated look on his face that turns into confusion when he sees who he’s with. “Water, come with me to get it, for my thirst.”

He grabs friend-but-also-a-bit-of-an-asshole-James’ hand and attempts to drag him away. 

“Wait!” James-that-broke-his-heart shouts. “There’s water on the table.” 

Bottles of Fiji water are in fact displayed in a glass bucket of ice at the center of the table they had been loitering by, an unfortunate thing to have not noticed before coming up with his supposed brilliant excuse. 

Aleks once again is stuck floundering, aware that more than a few eyes were on them and the spectacle they were making. 

“He only drinks tap-water, plastic is bad for you.” 

Aleks isn’t quite sure why professional asshole James De Angelis suddenly found it within his ice-covered heart to help him out, but he isn’t complaining

“BDP’s,” he adds with a wave as he and James try to get away without crashing into anyone. 

"BPA's," James corrects. 

“And A’s,” Aleks finishes lamely. 

He stupidly lets himself look at James, _really_ look at him. His hair is longer than Aleks has seen it before, gelled back into a low bun and his beard is thicker. The dark circles that used to stain under his eyes are less pronounced and his arms are far more defined. But he’s still the same James that Aleks fell in love with all those years ago.

Except that he’s not. 

Because James has moved on with his life like a normal person would have by now. He probably has a cute girlfriend or boyfriend that goes to museums with him and drinks fancy wine and plays poker in casinos instead of on fold-out tables in Cib’s bare-furnished living room.

Aleks hasn’t been this self-conscious in years and just hours ago he walked into a ball in a suit jacket from Goodwill. Suddenly he remembers how his dark roots are glaringly obvious and his shoes are scuffed up. It all seems much more important now than it had ten minutes ago when he had been on stage. 

“Oh well wait,” James grabs Aleks by the arm and it’s like a bolt of electricity jolts through is bones. “You should give me your number so that we can catch up, it’s been so long.” 

The fingers on his arm ( five points of horribly wonderful contact) make Aleks’ head swoon and his heartbeat like a drum. It takes him a second to process what James had said, but when he does his heart starts to pound even harder.

“Yeah,” he manages to get out finally, trying to discreetly shake off the grip James has on him so that he can think clearly. 

He just needs a second to collect himself. 

James doesn't let go though. He reaches into his pocket with the hand not digging into the flesh of Aleks’ arm and pulls out his phone, tapping around a bit before handing it over expectantly, finally letting go when Aleks accepts it. 

There's a new contact page open and Aleks considers leaving a fake number for his own sanity but can't bring himself to do it. After all these years James’ stupid little hopeful half-smile still gives him weak knees and even weaker convictions. He types with shaky fingers and hopes James doesn’t notice. 

Then other-James is trying to pull him away again, looking concerned, “You’re going to die of thirst dude.” 

“Thirst,” Aleks agrees, turning away from his (except he’s not _his_ anymore) James. “Wow, yeah. Water.” 

James waves at them as they leave, Aleks pretends he doesn’t notice. 

Steve meets them at the door as they exit the venue, face pinched in annoyance, “What are you doing?” 

“This party is lame, we’re gonna’ head out,” James says after a beat, daring Steve to argue. 

He doesn't, just looks between the two of them and sighs dramatically, “You get the car, I’ll get Cib.” 

“And Parker,” Aleks reminds, almost half-delirious with the surge of emotions he hadn’t felt in ages suddenly hitting him like an onslaught.

“And Parker,” Steve confirms, and then his eyes betray a hint of concern. “Are you okay? You look off.” 

Aleks nods, “Yeah, just the water in there was weird.” 

“The water,” Steve repeats. 

“The water,” James finishes. “Aleks walk with me to get the car I don’t want to go alone.” 

Steve opens his mouth to say something but James interrupts before he can, “I’m not scared I just like having company dude, humans are social creatures.”

Steve leaves with a snort and a promise to find both Cib and Parker. 

Aleks trails after James like a baby duckling as they move through the side streets lit by blinking liquor store signs and the headlights of an occasional car driving by. He’s too lost in his own head to be much help finding anything so he’s glad James seems to remember where the van is. The issue at hand was obviously the fact that he had come in to contact with James and instead of acting normal he had babbled something about water bottles and ran away. 

Another possible issue at hand was that this James, the one fiddling with the radio in the seat next to him, had seen the whole thing

And that James was apparently a nicer dude than Aleks had previously thought, considering how many times he had covered for him in just the last hour, but he would eventually let it slip to Cib, and Cib would tell Steve and Steve would tell everyone he came into contact with and then everyone would know that Aleks’ ex, the one he blabbed about far too often when he was wine drunk, was back in town. 

A bleak future, he knew how meddling his friends could be. 

“You good man?” James asks as they pull up to the curb behind the event and turns the engine off to wait for Steve. 

Aleks nods, pauses to think about it for another second, and then shakes his head. 

Steve slams the back door open before James can respond, leading out Parker and Cib who are both covered in what looks like flower petals. Parker has a roll of toilet paper in one hand and looks miserable. Cib has an entire vase of flowers and looks ecstatic. 

“Didn’t think so,” James puts a hand on his knee as they approach. “Let’s go get drunk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smaller update sorry!

Aleks is very drunk when his phone beeps his text message jingle at him.

It’s James. Ex-James, not Friend James.

_hey this is james and i hope this is aleks, if it isn’t sorry. i just wanted to say i really liked your band’s performance tonight it was super cool. it was good to see you again, i hope you are doing well._

The sofa he’s zoning out on dips suddenly. This time it is Friend James, smelling like he’s already had half the liquor cabinet. Aleks doesn’t bother to look up, still staring down at his phone with mixed emotions, heightened by the four and a half shots of Jameson and who knows how many cans of beers in his system.

“You feeling any better?” James asks, he's attempting to comfort him by rubbing his back but his hand-eye coordination is beyond saveable at this point in the night and all he's doing is hitting Aleks' shoulder. He’s also wearing one of Cib’s bandanas for some reason, tied around his neck like a collar. Aleks would normally take a picture so that he can make fun of him for it in the morning, but right now his mind is elsewhere. 

“I’m not feeling that bad,” he answers, hoping it means something. It's kind of true, the alcohol has numbed him enough that he has a hard time remembering why seeing 'ex-James' was such a bad thing. In addition, his head is spinning so much that gathering his thoughts is becoming increasingly difficult. His phone screen has gone black but he’s still staring down at it waiting for the universe to give him some kind of answer to all the questions forced on him. 

The most pressing of which being, why? After four years of wishing desperately that James would stumble back into his life (maybe to offer a desperate and passionate declaration of love after coming to the realization that they were meant to be), it was now that he showed up? 

Now, after a year and a half spent on moving on to the best of his abilities. 

Now, right as Aleks felt like he might actually get over him at some point. 

The simple, logical answer is that James is in LA because James has some kind of business in LA that isn’t Aleks’ business. But Aleks’ has a stupid lovestruck brain that fires itself back up like the Frankenstein monster at the sight of James and now he's stuck wondering if this was supposed to be some kind of prank pulled by fate or god or something. 

The bottom line was that Aleks didn't expect to see James tonight, and he's having a difficult time dealing with it. Because James had looked so fucking good with his white suit and gelled hair and apparently Aleks wasn't as 'moved-on' as he thought he was. 

Despite the fact that his mind is slowly swirling out of control after just seeing James again for less than ten minutes, he’s still inexplicably happy about the meeting. His heart still wants to fly out of his chest in glee when he thinks about how warm James’ hand had felt on his arm, how softly he had looked at him, the slight mix of desperation and nervousness that Aleks wanted to believe he wasn’t imagining when James had asked for his number. 

“I think you need a ride home,” James-that-is-sitting-with-him says with as much concern as Aleks has ever seen him show anything other than getting his white shoes dirty. It's ironic because Aleks is ninety-percent sure James had been double-fisting one bottle of Grey Goose and another of Amsterdam. 

“I need more shots.” 

James hands him a half-empty bottle of water that Aleks gulps down in less than ten seconds despite not having any idea on whose it was before, crushing the flimsy plastic into the crease between the cushions on the couch. 

“Oh, you look bad,” Steve appears with an insult, as usual, sitting on his other side and grabbing his wrist to check his pulse for some reason. 

Does he really look that close to death? 

“Not _bad_ bad though,” Aleks still can’t think beyond short phrases, his mind stuck on James’s smile and his little wave when they had left the party. 

His head hurts. Right between the eyes. Maybe if he just rests it on something. 

“I think it’s _bad_ bad,” James says above him, Aleks comes to the belated conclusion that he has managed to slump over so that his head is in his lap. 

“Just tired,” he says with a yawn, closing his eyes and drifting off. 

 

Aleks knows he’s really drunk when the first thing he sees after waking up is an angel. 

As his vision steadily comes back in focus he notices that his angel is entirely too buff and wearing a Dark Souls t-shirt. 

Interesting. 

“Why are you here?” he slurs at Brett, scrunching his eyes at the bright heavenly light surrounding him. He had no idea where it was coming from. “And why are you an angel?” 

“Steve called, said you needed a ride. I’m not sure how to answer the second question,” Brett gently lifts him to his feet and puts a steadying hand on his shoulder before prodding him in the direction of the door.

Aleks squirms away from him, “Steve's a bitch.” 

Brett scoffs, wiping his palms on his shorts before repositioning himself so that he can grab onto Aleks’ elbows more firmly, “I'm not saying you're wrong, but we’re still going home before you break something.” 

Aleks decides it's not worth fighting the guy who can snap a tree trunk in half and lets Brett lead them through the now much quieter house. Evidently, the party had ended while Aleks was out. 

Cib waves at them from where he’s sitting on the kitchen floor as the pass by. James is passed out in his lap with an uncorked bottle of wine in one hand and an ice cube tray in the other, but Steve and Parker are nowhere to be found.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” Aleks whines, stumbling over his feet at the doorstep. He doesn't really know whose house this is (Parker's one friend whose name he keeps forgetting maybe?) but if Cib and James can stay then why can't he? 

It's kind of a lie though. He does want to go home, he feels exhausted and stretched thin and just generally shitty, but he doesn't want to sleep alone in his big empty bed and think about how he still keeps a sweatshirt James had accidentally left behind hidden under his extra comforter in the linens closet because it always felt wrong to get rid of it. 

Brett doesn't listen, and Aleks doesn't have the energy to really push. Brett’s car is parked illegally right out front. Aleks hopes he gets a ticket and then feels bad because Brett was only here because he was trying to be a good friend. It still doesn't make it any less humiliating to be gently herded into the passenger seat like a dog that might run away if spooked. Brett even does the seatbelt up for him despite Aleks’ squirming. 

The ride home is filled with noise and Aleks doesn't hear any of it. 

Brett plays his music loud like he always does and even at four in the morning there’s enough traffic in LA to hear a few long angry honks in the fifteen-minute drive it takes to get to his place. All of it fades over Aleks as he drunkenly tries to recall the night. Except that remembering the night is a bad idea because James' stupid, too-pretty face keeps flashing up in his mind. 

"Can we go to your house?" Aleks asks because he really doesn't want to be alone right now and Brett doesn't live _that_ far away. 

Brett just nods and Aleks wonders if that's where they've been heading the whole time considering he doesn't make any quick u-turns. 

And when they pull into Brett's parking spot at his apartment complex Aleks is half-asleep but still kind of wants to cry, which is not a great way to convince people that you're totally a-okay. 

“Let’s fuck,” Aleks says because it's Brett and he knows Brett likes it when he’s blunt. 

Brett doesn't answer right away, unlocking the door and dumping his stuff on the couch. He grabs a few water bottles from the kitchen as Aleks stands stupidly in the hallway and waits. 

The lights are all off except for the one above the oven so he can't see much. He could probably find the couch in the dark, he had been on it enough times, but he doesn't want to sleep on the couch. 

"Brett," he whines finally after growing impatient. "Don't ignore me." 

"How is driving thirty minutes out to pick your sorry ass up ignoring you?" Brett replies without malice. 

"Let me make it up to you," Aleks hopes it sounds sexy. 

Brett just grins, shaking his head, “I think tonight you need to just sleep.” 

“I don’t want to sleep alone,” even drunk as he is Aleks is still aware of how pathetic he sounds, whining like a kid who's scared of the dark and wants their dad to check for monsters. 

“You can sleep with me,” Brett consoles him, leading Aleks into his bedroom and helping him take off his shirt. “But we’re just sleeping.” 

Aleks doesn't have the energy to argue, a seemingly reoccurring theme of the night, so he allows Brett to basically manhandle him (another reoccurring theme, how humiliating) out of his jeans and into a pair of sweatpants Aleks thinks might be his in the first place and a ratty sweatshirt that definitely isn't his but seems too small to be Brett's. 

He also passes him a bottle of water, “Have some,” he instructs without leaving any room for argument. 

Aleks obliges, drinking almost half of it as Brett toils around the bedroom putting things away and turning off lights. 

He’s asleep before Brett even gets back, exhaustion hitting him like a brick in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all like pining lol cuz that's most of the fic


End file.
